Homily on Psalm 115

1I believed, therefore I spoke; but I was humbled exceedingly; but I said in my ecstasy, “Every man is a liar.” Let faith lead the words about God—faith, and not demonstration. Faith is what draws the soul to assent by means that surpass logical methods; faith is what comes about not by geometrical necessities but by the energies of the Spirit. “In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk” (Acts 3:6). The deed followed that voice through the Spirit. From the wonder, the acceptance of the divinity of the Only-begotten became necessary for those who saw. Tell me, what is more compelling toward assent: the weaving together of propositions dragging their conclusion along after them, or a wonder so great, seen so clearly, surpassing every human power? But these things are not approved even now, nor do the works of the Spirit give credibility to the word about God. Instead, artful demonstrations hold their hope in the persuasiveness of the world’s wisdom, not in the strong and clear revelation of the Spirit, which he displays for the salvation of the many through those who have trusted God in simplicity of heart without curious inquiry. But would that I too might believe worthily, so that I may now speak five words with my mind to this great Church of God. And let no one mock the word, as though we were leading our hearers to assent about the things we say without examination. For the first principles of every discipline must necessarily be unexamined by those who learn them; otherwise it is impossible for those who dispute about the first things to advance by method and order to the end. You could learn this even from those outside. For if you do not grant the first principles to the geometer, it is impossible for him to complete what follows. And in arithmetic, the one who opposes the first and elementary principles cuts off the road ahead. Likewise, the first principles of medicine are undemonstrated for physicians. And in general, in whatever pursuit of those who advance by method and order to the end, it is impossible to seek demonstrations of the first assumptions. Rather, one must accept the first principles of the rational arts without examination, and then observe what follows from the things assumed in what comes after. So then, the mystery of theology also seeks assent from unexamined faith. For one must believe, it says, that God exists—not investigate, nor dispute what he is (Hebrews 11:6). And in general, if faith is the substance of things hoped for and the proof of things not seen (Hebrews 11:1), do not be contentious about seeing now the things stored far away, and do not make the things hoped for doubtful because you cannot yet grasp them by knowledge. These things, then, are said in general about faith for the sake of those who fight over words and hold their hope in empty phrases. Now the psalm in hand seems to me to have a sequence of thought that follows the thought of the preceding psalm. For there he said, “I will be pleasing to the Lord in the land of the living” (Psalm 114:9 LXX; Psalm 116:9 Hebrew). Since, then, he speaks about a land not seen, as one who knows it clearly, he gives the reason for his determination about things unseen, saying: “I believed that there is a land of the living; therefore I spoke, that I will be pleasing to the Lord in it” (Psalm 115:1 LXX; Psalm 116:10 Hebrew).

2In general, a soul that comes to speech without faith will babble in vain, driving its words forward with nothing beneath them. The beginning of rational discourse, then, is faith firmly established in the heart of the speaker. Next, he goes on to show how it is possible for us to accomplish faith perfectly, saying: “I was humbled greatly.” For the one who has not humbled his own mind, who does not say in imitation of the Apostle, “Brothers, I do not consider that I have yet laid hold of it” (Philippians 3:13), but instead pondering the comprehension of God’s essence, measuring out what cannot be reached with his own reasoning, and reckoning God to be only as great as his reasoning has encompassed—in short, the one who makes his own mind the measure of all things, not reckoning that it is easier to measure out the whole sea with a small cup than for the human mind to grasp the unutterable majesty of God—such a person is puffed up in vain and lifted up by the emptiness of his own mind. He cannot say, “I believed, therefore I spoke,” because he cannot add what follows: “I was humbled greatly.” For he lives with conceit and boastfulness, and exults in empty words, because he does not possess the strength that comes from faith.

Then he does not humble himself alone, but with himself all humanity that is akin to him and shares his nature. “I said in my ecstasy,” he says, “Every man is a liar” (Psalm 115:2 LXX; Psalm 116:11 Hebrew). So the one who is not helped by faith, but comes to speech from his own resources, trusting in human preparations for grasping the truth, is a liar, falling far short of the truth. And he says he spoke this word in ecstasy. What is the ecstasy? Either that, after looking around at human nature and searching carefully whether there is any truth among human beings, he could find it nowhere without help from God, and being struck with amazement at the strangeness of the matter, he cried out, “Every man is a liar.” Or it was in that ecstasy which he feigned before Achish, pretending epilepsy and derangement, when he saw that he had come to the necessity of lying about himself and inventing things that were not, in order to escape the danger from the enemies—then he said, “Every man is a liar.” Even if not by choice, nor for the harm of neighbors, still in every case he took refuge in lying because of some circumstantial causes.

The Prophet does not, however, fall into his own trap, as some of the sophistical arguers try to refute him, saying that the Prophet has fallen into the refutation by reversal. For if every man is a liar, and David is also a man, then clearly he too was a liar. And if he was a liar, he must not be believed in what he declares. But if this statement is not true, and not every man is a liar, then we will release David from the charge of lying. And if he does not lie, let us believe him in what he declares; but by believing him, we will again be driven around into the necessity of disbelieving. So if David speaks truth, he dissolves his own statement, since he is a man and does not lie. But if he lies, he has from that very fact the reason not to be believed—for who will pay attention to a liar? So since he once declared that every man is a liar, let David lie in order to confirm his statement; or if he himself speaks truth, he has destroyed his own declaration.

3But these are the games of people who jest and delight in the twists of words at the expense of the inexperienced. The truth is not like that. For those are called men who are still held by human passions. But the one who has already risen above the passions of the flesh, and through the perfection of his mind has passed over to the state of the angels—when he speaks about human things, he clearly exempts himself from the rest. For the one who said, “I said, ‘You are gods, and all of you sons of the Most High; but you die like men’” (Psalm 82:6-7, LXX 81:6-7), is truthful. “You are gods.” And certainly if to anyone else, this title is fitting also for David. For he too is a son of the Most High, made akin to God through virtue, and he does not die like a man, but having God living within himself.

“I said in my ecstasy,” he says, “‘Every man is a liar’” (Psalm 116:11, LXX 115:2). Let those hear this who are mixed together with the flesh through their passions, yet exalt their own minds above the things beyond the world. Let it be the common aim of all who lay claim to piety to tear down their reasonings and the height of their heart that is lifted up against God.

“What shall I give back to the Lord for all that he has given back to me? I will take the cup of salvation” (Psalm 116:12-13, LXX 115:3-4). Coming to awareness of the countless gifts from God—that he was brought from non-being into being; that, formed from the earth, he was honored with reason, in which he is also able to bear the image of the heavenly one; and then, looking also to the plan for the human race, that the Lord gave himself as a ransom for us all—he is at a loss, and searches among all that he possesses for what worthy gift he might find for the Master.

“What then,” he says, “shall I give back to the Lord?” Not sacrifices, not whole burnt offerings, not the service of the legal worship, but my whole life itself. And for this reason, he says, “I will take the cup of salvation,” meaning the suffering in the contests for the sake of piety, the standing against sin even to death. And this would be what the Savior himself taught in the Gospels: “Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me” (Matthew 26:39); and again to the disciples, “Are you able to drink the cup that I am about to drink?” (Matthew 20:22). He was indicating the death he accepted for the salvation of the world.

For this reason, he says, “I will take the cup of salvation”—that is, thirsting, I come to the perfection through martyrdom, counting not as pains the tortures brought on in the contests for piety, but as rest for soul and body. “I will offer myself,” he says, “as a sacrifice and offering to the Lord, since I consider all things too small for the worth of my benefactor. And these promises I am ready to pay before all the people, who are my witnesses. For I will pay my vows in the presence of all his people” (Psalm 116:14, LXX 115:5).

Then comes an exhortation to the hearers not to be terrified by death. “Precious before the Lord,” he says, “is the death of his holy ones” (Psalm 116:15, LXX 115:6). Do not shrink from the good contest, you people, and do not be cowardly before death. For it is not corruption, but the starting point of life; it is not utter destruction, but a passage to honor.

4Among people who love wealth, certain little stones that gleam with bright colors have by nature come to be called precious. But truly precious before the Lord is the death of his holy ones. When a soul purified in its life, free from the defilements of the flesh, having no spot or wrinkle, glorified by the contests for the sake of piety, and having bound on the crown of righteousness, outshining all these things by the beauty of virtue, stands before the Master and Judge of all things, possessing a radiance from grace more brilliant than any costly stone—how is the death of such a person not precious before the Lord?

Let us not, then, lament the departures from this world of holy men, but rather their births and their entrances into this life. For the entrance into this world comes through the dishonor of filth and stench, things whose very sight not even one of those presiding over our life could easily endure. For through such things the passage of fleshly birth has been ordained by the necessity of nature. But the departure and release from here is precious and glorious—not for all people, but for those who have passed through this life in holiness and righteousness. Precious, then, is the death; not precious is the birth of human beings. For it is sown, he says, in dishonor; it is raised in glory. It is sown in corruption; it is raised in incorruption (1 Corinthians 15:43). Compare, then, death with birth, and stop lamenting for the one who is being released from dishonor.

When they died in the Jewish manner, the corpses were abominable. When death is for Christ's sake, the remains of his holy ones are precious. Before this, it was said to the priests and the Nazirites: “You shall not be defiled by any dead person,” and, “If anyone touches a corpse, he shall be unclean until evening,” and, “He shall wash his garments” (Leviticus 21:1; Numbers 19:11, 19). But now the one who touches the bones of a martyr receives a certain share of sanctification from the grace that attends the body. Precious, then, before the Lord is the death of his holy ones (Psalm 116:15 [LXX 115:15]).

Do not prefer the most dishonorable things to the most valuable, and do not become bad traders, preferring the corruptible life to the incorruptible and blessed state. For apart from the sufferings of dishonor to which most lovers of pleasure are subject, the needs of life also bend down the soul's greatness and, as it were, enslave it, dragging it down into the service of the flesh. And where there is slavery, there clearly is also dishonor. We must therefore flee the life to which dishonor is naturally attached.

“I am doing nothing great,” he says, “in giving myself back to you, the Master. For since I am your servant, I bring to you your own possession. For what has been created is altogether the servant of the Creator. So I am a servant not only by choice, but also by nature. For I am the son of your handmaid, whom the enemy led away when she was an infant and a mere child, and, separating her from your service, made her a slave of sin. But I turn back and run again to the Master from the beginning, and I acknowledge my ancient servitude. You have broken my bonds (Psalm 116:16 [LXX 115:16]). Since you freed me from the bonds of sin, descending into Hades and releasing humanity, which was a prisoner of death and held in the inescapable prisons of Hades, for this reason I will sacrifice to you—not four-footed animals with divided hooves and chewing the cud, nor clean birds, nor fine flour mixed with oil, nor transparent frankincense, nor that incense of compound spices (for these are offered to you, the Master, from the earth). But what is my own possession and the offspring of my own heart—your glorification—I will offer up from it, as from an altar of my own mind.”

5And I will offer to you the sacrifice of praise, more honorable to you than ten thousand whole burnt offerings—to you, the self-sufficient and perfect God, who do not demand bodily sacrifices, in which the wealthy have the advantage, but rather the confession that comes from a sincere disposition and heart, which is equally available to all who desire it. “I will pay my vows to the Lord in the presence of all his people” (Psalm 115:8 LXX; Psalm 116:14 Hebrew). When I offer you praise, I will not do it secretly, in some hidden corner, as if ashamed and fleeing the reproaches of the ungodly. No, I will perform a public sacrifice, taking the whole people as partners in the worship. And the place appointed for our sacrifice will be the very center and most conspicuous parts of Jerusalem.

Listen, you who abandon the Church and gather in ordinary houses, you wretched fragments torn from the precious body: vows must be paid in the midst of Jerusalem—that is, in the Church of God. For even under the old worship, no one was permitted to set up a private altar; one altar alone was appointed for those who chose to sacrifice. But you raise up an altar against the altar of the fathers, and you kindle alien fire upon it, not even being corrected by the ancient example. You draw in people whose minds are corrupted, and you defile yourself along with them. May you flee from imitating those people, you people of the Lord, and do not be separated from the portion of those who are being saved. Remain in the faith, being perfected in the commandments of the Lord, to whom be glory and power forever and ever. Amen.